Ricky Hatton packs punch as wrestling ringmaster

He may have been carrying a little excess baggage under the chin, the swell around his waistband may have betrayed a regime less centred on the gym than it used to be, he may prefer his liquid intake in Guinness form these days, but Ricky Hatton can still apparently land a punch.

Old haunts: Ricky Hatton returned to the ring where he defended his world junior welterweight belt against Carlos Maussa Photo: PA

By Jim White

8:36PM GMT 10 Nov 2009

Bouncing round the ring in the Sheffield Arena, where he defended his world junior welterweight belt against Carlos Maussa, he had 12,000 fans on their feet as he once more floored an opponent, leaving him pole-axed on the canvas as though he had just had a close encounter with a 10-ton truck.

The fact that this was a Worldwide Wrestling Entertainment bill, that his opponent was a wrestling clown called Chavo Guerrero, and that his punch was so theatrical it should have carried Batman-style subtitles (“thwack!” “kapow!”) didn’t seem to worry the huge, ecstatic Yorkshire gathering. For them Ricky was back, back, back.

“I was a massive fan of wrestling in my younger days,” he had said beforehand. “I watch it on a regular basis with my little boy, Campbell. He’ll be very proud seeing his dad in the ring with all his heroes. And I intend to enjoy myself.”

Now as good as retired from boxing, this is what Ricky Hatton does these days: he enjoys himself. He does after-dinner speaking, personal appearances and now here he was at the wrestling, acting as compere for an event which was being screened in its entirety on US television.

The show might have taken place in Sheffield, but it was largely designed for an audience back home. Just to inform them that this was England, a black cab, a red phone box and a pillar box had been positioned on the stage.

It was a set which made you think that instead of Ricky Hatton, they were expecting Austin Powers as guest MC.

Last week Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne had done the honours, before that – bizarrely – Rev Al Sharpton. So Hatton was in elevated company.

“It makes me realise how far I’ve come that people are asking me to do this sort of thing,” he said. “I suppose I always considered myself an entertainer. The reason I got the massive fan base is what you do outside the ring as much as inside.

"You’ve got to give a little bit extra. That’s what the wrestling is. It’s not just the fight, it’s the banter, the build-up. You’re not just watching matches you’re watching a full show.”

And what a show it was in Sheffield. The pyrotechnics, the rib-rattling heavy metal soundtrack, the way the floor of the ring itself was amplified so it rattled like Ginger Baker’s snare drum every time someone fell on it: everything was huge.

Even in his pomp Hatton can rarely have made such an entrance as he did here, serenaded by Blue Moon, with a video compilation of his finest fighting moments playing on the big screen, just to remind everyone in attendance what a genuine punch looks like.

But even he - boxing’s most vibrant character - looked a little small and two-dimensional in this company.

WWE’s cast of characters are all as pumped-up as their soundtrack; the good guys, the bad guys, cartoon villains and cowboy goodfellas with sparkling teeth dominate the arena. There is nothing subtle here; panto season had come early to Sheffield.

The narrative is king in WWE; this is not a sport, it’s story-telling. Much of the evening in Sheffield was spent in building up the soap opera behind the scenes.

Amid a welter of posturing and braggadocio, there were countless verbal confrontations, much finger jabbing and threatening, a continuous insistence that various characters would see each other later.

In fact, with its extended build-up and short resolution, what it resembles most is a playground confrontation.

This is what happened to Hatton: he was there apparently just to introduce the fighters, but soon he was goaded into taking part himself. Not that his comeback lasted long. After a comical flurry of shadow boxing he had his opponent on the deck within seconds.

In fact, all evening no fight lasted more than the time required to fill the gaps between US ad breaks. Which all may explain its popularity among the huge number of under-11s squealing up the arena: this is sport for the short attention span, continuous instant gratification.

And whoever they were, the audience seemed keen to follow the set narrative. They hated the baddies and cheered the goodies. One tag team combo was called Legacy, and they were much loathed.

There seemed little reason – beyond one of the member’s close physical resemblace to Cristiano Ronaldo – to dislike them. But they were booed with a fury which suggested they had personally insulted everyone in the hall.

The big favourites, on the other hand, were a team called DX, consisting of Sean Michaels and Triple H, the premier WWE superstars. All heavy-metal hair and ripped torsos, the pair exude a swaggering anti-authority edge.

Nobody there cared about the direction, the choreography, or the clever stage management. What they wanted to do was roar through the evening’s denouement.

Arrived at via much shouty threatening and posturing, it was a tag team fight in which the crowd favourites, DX, took on the bad boys, Big Show and his partner Chris Jericho.

It is unlikely the local betting shops will have done much business on the outcome. Though anyone who had laid a tenner beforehand that it would end in the most predictable way, with Big Show swinging a haymaker which missed his opponent and knocked out his partner, would have cleaned up.

It was left to Hatton to climb into the ring with the victors and bring proceedings to a conclusion. He did with his son at his side, wearing a huge grin. Which was, presumably, the whole point.

Ricky Hatton was guest hosting RAW on the WWE DX Invasion Tour, see him in action this Thursday on Sky Sports 3 at 10pm. Visit www.wwe.com